


One Step At A Time

by oncetherelivedaboy



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Modern Day, Newt's a recovering addict, No proofreading, Trans Newton Geiszler, We Die Like Men, real life AU, tw: past drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncetherelivedaboy/pseuds/oncetherelivedaboy
Summary: When Hermann left, Newton had already been on a downward spiral. At rock bottom he's forced to resign from the California college he taught at and do a mandatory 6-month stint in rehab. That was 18 months ago. In an effort to put 2000 miles between himself and the still fresh wounds he goes east and accepts a position at a New York college. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the only one with the idea to get some space.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> God knows I'll do my best to update this regularly.

Newton was glad to be back, summer still clinging to the air, the heat just right. He had his box of desk ornamentation under one arm. A sheet with class times, room numbers and his office number on it. He’d missed being on a proper campus, classes didn’t start for a few days but students were already roaming the campus, parents helping them move in. A year and a half ago he would have thought this was impossible, to be back. 

It felt like a lifetime ago. A new school, no one knew about his past, no knew about his struggles. He was just Dr. Geiszler, the cool new professor in the biology department with “too many tattoos for a sensible man”. He wanted to be comforted by that thought, wanted to be comforted by the 2000 mile distance he’d put between himself then, and himself now. Yet, he only felt a bit lonely, disconnected. He imagined it would pass at some point, once he’d planted the roots that he’d been forced to pull out and drag with him. 

New city, new state, new apartment, new school. He reminded himself that staying would mean forfeiting his career. That no one there would have touched him with a 10-foot pole after everything he’d done. He tries to look at the bright side of it all. 

“Dr. Geiszler?” There’s someone standing in front of him, too old to be an undergrad, too young to be a proper instructor. Probably a T.A. Newt remembers his days as one. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

“I’m supposed to show you to your office and give you a tour of campus.” Newton nods and he leads Newt into the building they are in front of. He doesn’t say anything as Newt follows him up a set of stairs, and into a hallway. Wooden doors lines the walls, each with a name plaque attached the the wall adjacent. There are sheets of paper hanging from the doors, matrix schedules outlining class times and office hours. 

The T.A. stops about halfway down the hall, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the office door. 

“They should get your nameplate thing in a couple of days.” As the door swings open he presses the key into Newt’s palm. “You’re supposed to keep it locked when you’re not in here, and you’ll need to keep at least 3 office hours a week.” It’s a barren office, just a desk, a couple of chairs and an empty bookcase. “You can decorate however you want, no nails or anything though.” Newt bites his tongue to inform the man that he did, in fact, read the documents they’d already sent him. Newt deposits the box on his new desk, and attaches the new key to his key ring. The T.A. is still droning on with the protocols and things that Newton already knew when they head back out into the hall and Newt relocks the office. 

The tour isn’t bad, Newt learns the general layout of the campus. “It seems big, but you’ll get used to in no time.” He really just wants to get back to his office, finish up with his last syllabus and getting things out of the box. He wants to get back to work. Wants to get away from the idle boredom he’s been faced with, needs to occupy himself with something that feels useful. 

They circle back through the campus and are back in front of the building they had started in. “I’ve got a thing, you remember where your office is?” 

“Yeah, go have fun with some friends. I know what I’m doing.” Newt says. 

“See you around campus Dr.Geiszler.” Newt gives him a mock salute. Before turning to climb the stairs that lead to the front of the building. 

He can practically see Hermann hobbling up them, grumbling about his knee and the stupidity of not having a simple incline. He allows himself a moment to revel in the idea of going back to his apartment to find it not empty, to find Hermann on the couch with one of his boring biographies and a cup of tea. Newt shakes the thought as quickly as it registers. There’s no use in dwelling. He twists the band on his finger absentmindedly as he reenters the building, climbs the indoor stairs. Tries not to think too hard about the stairs. The office across from his is open, the light’s on and he can hear a keyboard clacking. He can’t see inside without drawing attention to himself, he notices that they also lack a nameplate. He shrugs, he’ll meet whoever it is eventually. There’s no need to rush work company, he thinks as he unlocks his own office and steps inside. 

First things first, the musty smell has got to go. He’s dealt with all sorts of weird smells, and he can usually deal with it. Stuffy air in old buildings was a weird place to draw the line considering formaldehyde and rotting flesh only barely registered to him. Stuffy air reminds him of his stint in rehab, especially the early days. It reminds him of the nausea, the fatigue, achy muscles and the hot and cold flashes. The stuffiness reminds him of the thin sheets and the broken hot water tap in his room. It reminds him of his time in withdrawal, and how his skin itched for the drugs. He thought he would die without it. 

He picks up a candle from the box. While in the past he’d had candles to mask other smells, he still had a few from when they’d cleared out his last office and stuck all his shit into a cardboard box. Not that Newt really remembered much from that time. 

He opens the window, warm air billows through, already circulating the stale air. He picks out a teakwood candle and fishes the lighter from his pocket. He sets the lit candle on his desk before going back to the box, this was just one of many. He’d had a bookshelf full of volumes, some art on walls, a rug he’d brought in because the tile of his previous office seemed depressing. There had been more, more than one would think. It had shocked him when he’d returned to his apartment after months and properly saw the amount he’d had squirreled away in such a small space. Boxes upon boxes. The others were still in his car. He hadn’t gone through them except to browse a few books that had once been on his shelves. He starts the unpack this box. There are papers at the bottom, from whatever project he’d been working on at the time. He starts by moving the desk from its place against the wall. He much prefers when he doesn’t have to face a wall or put his back to the door. Instead, he goes for an off-center placement over a floor outlet. It doesn’t place the desk directly in front of the door, but in a place where he can see people as they enter. He empties the box, organizing his drawers and placing the odds and ends on the desk. 

There’s a picture of him and Hermann near the bottom, the frame has been cracked, sitting in a box that gets thrown around will do that. He removes it from the frame gingerly. Hermann in a blazer over one his obscene sweater vests, Newt in his old leather jacket and a half undone tie. They’d helped in preventing a biological drone attack a few years back. Newt working on a way to figure out the virus they intended to release, and Hermann working on programming to identify which drones were being utilized and where they had originated. They’d been at each other's throats up until the very end, after the threat had been neutralized. Newt had joked that they’d saved the world, and Hermann had kissed him in a fit of glee. Newt hadn’t objected. Just before the picture had been taken Hermann had sidled up to him, looking awkward and out of place until Newt had put an arm around his shoulder. They’d both grinned because they had done it. A reporter had gotten the photo, the photo had never gone to press but Hermann had emailed her and asked for a copy. It had been a part of his 1 year anniversary gift to Newt. 

It’d be stupid to reframe it after everything that happened. He’ll probably tuck it away in his journal when he gets home. It’s a good picture of him. Still fresh wounds open up when looking at it, but it’s also a reminder of everything before. He’d been using then, but not regularly. He’d thought it was just for fun, just something to dull it all, make him feel less. He’d been using drugs of one kind or another since college. Grad school saw the uptake though. Uppers mostly back then, to get him through the days. The habit lessened for a while, but then there was the monotony of everyday life and he just felt so stifled and broken and everything felt like it was hitting raw nerves. Then, after his top surgery they gave him pain pills. Too many pain pills. They made him feel better when everything else was too much. He needed them less after him and Hermann got together, but it continued still. It was less, but it was ever present. When he switched from pills to injectables was when it got bad. He remembers the heroin dens, the sketchy dealers. Hiding everything from Hermann. He fiddles with the ring again, it jerks him from the thoughts, then tucks the photo into his laptop case. 

He’s reached the bottom of the box, which means he’ll need to go get the rest from his car. He should have asked the T.A. to help him carry stuff in. He locks the door behind him. Only offering a momentary glimpse into the office across the hall and heads back out, coming back with one of his boxes of books. 

He thought it was just books, but it’s also some of his old journals. He tucks those on the bottom shelf. There are a few trinkets here and there. He won’t be able to properly set up his shelves until he has all of the books. A bookshelf is one of the few places that he opposes disorder. He makes his way back out to his car, dragging up another box. As he’s fishing the keys to the office out of his pocket he has an idea. No longer does he hear the tapping of keys, from the office across the hall, instead he hears the unmistakable sound of chalk on a board. He can ask whoever’s over there just to listen to make sure no one goes into his office so he can keep it open and not have to lock and unlock it every time. 

He sticks his head through the door, ready to offer a greeting. There’s a thin man standing away from him, one hand grips a cane, the other a piece of chalk as he scribbles away at an equation on the board. The box slips from Newt’s grip. The sound barely registers in his ears. The man jumps and whips around. He’s frozen in place for a moment, the hand holding the chalk still in the air. An equation stopped mid-symbol. His glasses hang from his neck, a button up shirt below a grey sweater vest. 

“Newton, what are you doing here?” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr at oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com  
> Comments make me happy.


	2. Chapter 2

Newton says nothing in response to Hermann’s question. For a long moment neither of them says anything else, neither dares to move. Hermann out of fear that he might wake up from this dream. It doesn’t seem real. He hasn’t seen Newton in nearly two years. He looks good. His button up shirt a little disheveled and he can tell that his glasses are dirty even from across the room. He’s put on some weight, it suits him. He’s not sickly thin from the drugs. He looks normal, healthy. The circles under his eyes have lessened, he still looks tired. His hair’s still a mess. Hermann still wants to run his hands through it. 

“Newton?” He says his name again and it breaks whatever spell they’ve been under. He disappears out the door, leaving the box behind. “Newton!” It’s a sharp kind of yell. He’s going after him, but by the time he gets to the door, Newton is at the stairs. “Dr. Geiszler!” He tries again. He’s doing his best to follow, but he can’t exactly run. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs Newton is nowhere to be found. “Goddamn, it” he mutters. The questions already rising in his mind. He hikes back up the stairs, back to his office. He kicks the box as he enters, slightly annoyed at Newton’s appearance. The box confirmed that the whole event hadn’t been some stress-induced hallucination. To say he was stressed was an understatement, he’d moved across the country for a job and a new start.  He’d done this to prevent running into Newton. 

Back in California they had taught at the same university but were housed in different buildings, nearly a whole campus apart. They didn’t see each other at work often. They’d arrive together and Newton would drop him off on in front of his building so he didn’t have to walk too far. Then he’d go across campus and park in the faculty parking lot and hike across campus. They took different times for lunch, but sometimes Newton would pop by with one of his favorite teas or he’d bring Newt a coffee. Newton’s last class usually ended an hour or two before Hermann’s and he’d end up hanging out in Hermann’s office, he had a spare key and kept morning office hours. He’d work out lesson plans and answer emails. Sometimes he’d hide post-its and write on Hermann’s chalkboard, leaving notes to both annoy and endear. If Hermann was honest they were all endearing. He found a few stuffed into the drawer when he’d packed up his old office. Little hearts and loving phrases in German. It had been a year since they’d separated by that point, but he’d still found himself crying over the little pink post-its. They were the last pieces of Newt still embedded in his life. He’d purposely stopped keeping tabs on him after the separation. He wouldn’t go back to his office after his last class, just straight out to parking lot. He made a point to avoid the biology and chemistry departments. He didn’t trust himself not to run back to Newton if he saw him, didn’t trust himself not to topple his own principles and convictions if it meant they could be together again. He never ran into him. 

He hadn’t left as soon as he found out about the drugs, he’d always known Newt liked the recreational side of things. He thought it was just pot, Newt had told him about the pills in grad school, but he’d said that he stopped taking them after he finished. Hermann wished he wasn’t so blind to the truth when it came to Newt. They were roommates as Freshman, back then they bickered constantly. Looking back the flirting on both sides was obvious, but they were both so caught up in themselves. It took years for them to finally start dating, after a crisis event. They were both on their last leg of grad school by that point. Then they both took jobs as assistant professors with tenure tracks. 

They moved in together, they got tenured positions. Hermann proposed, Newton didn’t want to get married until it was legalized nationwide, they had been searching for jobs in other states, questioning where they might go if they left. Newton didn’t want to deal with anymore legal hoops. Then Newton got surgery and Hermann doted on him hand and foot all through his recovery. He realizes now that that was the turning point. One of the happiest moments of Newton’s life, a change he had been anticipating for years and it was finally here. As he told Hermann one night “I’m just waiting to feel complete”. This happy emotional affair was marred because of the drugs.

It seemed so stupid that someone who understood the science of addiction could so easily become hooked, but Hermann realized that it had been from years of misuse, not just from the pain pills. Within a year Newton was a shell of himself, he was almost constantly high. It had taken Hermann too long to realize that his own pain medication had started going missing, that the time between refills for his prescriptions were getting shorter and shorter. He confronted him, Newton didn’t deny it. He should have left then but he didn’t. He tried to get Newt help, tried to get him to go to rehab “I don’t have a problem babe, it’s just fun. It makes me feel better.” But he got worse, he’d disappear for hours on end, almost entire days at times. Missed classes, came home late, forgot to pick Hermann up. He’d have to call a cab to get a ride home and he’d fine Newt nearly unconscious on the couch, too high to even register Hermann’s presence. He left when he found the heroin. Shoved in an old cigar box, stuffed in the back of the bookcase that housed Newton’s comics. The sight alone numbed him to the core. He took a sick day the next morning, kissed Newton before he left, told him he loved him as he walked out the door. The door closed, he packed his things as quickly as he could, trying not to dwell. He scribbled a note and a phone number to a rehab clinic, somewhere that could help him he had tried to explain in the note. Then, he left, booked a hotel room for the week and tried not to look back. He expected a call that night, but it never came. 

He stares down at the box at his feet. He wants to kick it again, pull each individual piece out, tear the books apart, smash the knick-knacks. He knows it’s a stupid thought. He manages to hoist the box up and brings it to his tidy desk. Sliding a few papers out of the way and closing his laptop. It's mostly books, there are a few journals, worn composition notebooks. He opens one, finds dates listed at the top of the pages, back from their early college days. He spots his name on the page and promptly closes it. Reading his ex’s diary is a bad idea. There are a few pictures at the bottom, mostly of Hermann. These are the things taken from Newton’s old office. He remembers hearing the same grad student who had shown him around campus earlier in the day. He knows the office across from his was empty. He crosses the hall, peers in through the little window. He can see a laptop bag resting against the side of the desk, one of his big three-wick candles on the desk. There’s a picture frame on the desk, the same kind that had sat on Newt’s old desk, housing a picture of the two of them.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is basically just exposition, god forbid I introduce it in an organic fashion. I know, I suck.   
> You can find me on tumblr at oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com , I take requests from there.   
> Comments are highly appreciated and encouraged. Give me feedback, I haven't written narratively in any kind of quantity for months, so I'm out practice and probably fucked up somewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

He’s out the building and in the parking lot within moments, not daring to look back. He feels clammy and shaky and wants to throw up and scream at the same time. He fumbles with his car keys, manages to unlock it. Glances around him, no one was following him. There are a few students milling around the parking lot, headed to and from campus. He can hear his heart beating so hard it hurts. He leans forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, trying to catch his breath. To get a hold of himself. The sunlight streaming through the car feels hot on his skin. He turns the key, listens to splutter of the starter for a moment before releasing it. The low hum of the engine under his fingers. He’ll go in later today and finish up with his office, maybe tomorrow. 

He fishes the phone from his back pocket, checking the time, checking to see when the closest meeting is. The itch under his skin isn’t subsiding, and it’s such a stupid thing. Why did Hermann have to be here, why did  Hermann have to come back into his life after everything he’s been through. He’s finally getting better and he can’t even see his ex without thinking about how shitty he was back then. It reminds him of all the terrible things he did and brings up the imaginary “what ifs” because there is so much that Newton can’t recall from that time. He doesn’t even know all the things he’s done, all the people he’s wronged. The emotions and guilt and pain from all of it is still so raw, that they make him think about using again. Make him think about how easy it would be, makes him think about how good it used to feel to feel nothing. 

There’s a meeting in the basement of a church he’s never been to in 30 minutes, it’ll take him 20 to get there from campus. He punches the address into the phone. It goes black and starts to ring, Hermann. He never did delete the number or the contact photo. He finds himself staring down at a photo of the two of them. Newton’s lips pressed to his cheek and Hermann rolling his eyes, it had been the fifth attempt. Newton had kept missing their faces in the photo because he wasn’t looking at the phone when he took it. Staring at photos of the two of them, reminiscing on everything between them, the bickering and rules and love. God, above it all there had been so much love. Newton had been overflowing with it for a decade, and Hermann gave it back tenfold. 

Everything after the first kiss felt so natural. It felt like everything had led up to that moment, that they were meant to be. They were compatible, because even after every fight, every argument, all the bickering that had been there for years, they always ended up right back together. That’s why they worked. That’s what Newton had always wanted and craved. Growing up had been hard. Public grade school, no one liked him. Private middle and high school. He’d thought he’d fit in better there, wouldn’t get bullied for his intelligence. He didn’t, at least not because he was smarter, hell most of the kids didn’t even he care he was trans. No, he got bullied because he was weird. He was high strung, always had been. He had a streak of trouble, too defensive, too quick to argue or back talk or crack jokes. He got in trouble a lot. Trouble wasn’t something you wanted to get into at a private school. But his grades stayed up and his scores were good. So most of the teachers just let him be. He hadn’t really had any friends, sure he had his group of stoner friends, they’d hang out and smoke weed in one of their basements and play shitty music on cheap guitars. They were nice enough, smart enough, but Newton always felt like an outsider. Not above, just disconnected. 

It wasn’t just with friends, and co-workers, it was with everyone. No one understood him, he had been lost and desperate for so long. Sometimes the world became too much and he got so overwhelmed with it all. Or things around him didn’t move slowly enough, 

Hermann was the only person he ever really connected with. Sure in college there had been people he got along with, people who he could have a proper conversation with, who he didn’t have to explain every little thing too. They usually got tired of him though, endearing antic turned into a playful annoyance which turned into disdain for his every action. He knew it, he’d seen the cycle before. Hermann had been different, he’d immediately hated Newton, had stated it outright. Told them he could not possibly room with someone who thought it was acceptable to use their mini-fridge to hold lab specimens. Hermann never sugar-coated his annoyance. With the two of them, it seemed to cycle backwards over the course of a decade. From disdain to annoyance, to endearment, to genuine affection. Newton would be lying if he hadn’t always thought Hermann was cute, even with the spindly limbs and the stupid bowl cut. He liked the sharp edges and near clockwork of the man. Liked that only he got to see the softer sides. He got to see the crows feet when he smiled, even in college, he’d had them. Newt suspected it was from all the squinting from not wearing his reading glasses. In Hermann, Newton saw the future, saw a future. Now all he saw was regret and tardiness and abandonment, and “what ifs”. There were so many “what ifs” and “if only's”.  What Hermann had seen in Newton all those years ago, Newton would never know. What Hermann saw in him now though, Newton had some semblance of an idea. 

His uncle had always said he had stars in his eyes. He’d hoped to see those stars in person one day as a child. Astronauts were the rock stars of science, that’s what Illia had said when Newton had said he wanted to be one. It seemed stupid now to look back at the childhood dream. Before everything, it might have been possible. Hermann had told him of his shared childhood dream years before. 

_ They’d had one too many glasses of wine, Hermann just the right side of giggly. It was a side that even Newton rarely saw. Newton had found a telescope that morning at a rummage sale, and they were on the roof of their apartment building. Hermann had gone on and on about the heat from the roof causing turbulent air, and a bad viewing experience. Newton had already thought about that, and was willing to risk it.  _

_ Aligning it properly had been hell, and the alcohol probably hadn’t helped. Newton hadn’t the patience for it, he let Hermann take over at aligning at the first sign of interest. Newton happily resigned himself to cling to Hermann. He tucked his hands in the pockets of Hermann’s jacket, and wedged his chin in Hermann’s shoulder, and held him steady. He smelled like clean laundry and chalk.  _

_ “What would you like me to find Newton?” Hermann had asked, and Newton remembered how nice Hermann’s mouth sounded around his name.  _

_ “The space station, always wanted to visit. Should probably do some scouting first.” Hermann scoffed at that.  _

_ “I don’t think we’ll be able to see from these coordinates dear.”  _

_ “Then surprise me.” Newton had said, toeing off his shoes before he kissed Hermann’s neck. He was still holding onto him, and he wasn’t sure who the anchor had been.  _

_ “I used to want to be an astronaut too.” Hermann had said. “I guess every kid does at one point in time or another.” He tilts his head back, abandoning the eyepiece for a moment to lean back into Newton and gaze at the sky with bare eyes. “When I told my father, he wasn’t exactly one to let his child dream of the impossible.” Hermann sighed. “I get annoyed with my leg sometimes, but it’s the only time I’ve ever felt resentment towards my condition.” Newton held him a bit tighter. “I got over it. It was all rather silly of me.” He scoffed. “Imagine, me hurtling at a thousand miles an hour into the great expanse.”  _

_ “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Newton had joked. “Wouldn’t have to listen to you bitch about your tea.” Hermann pinched his arm in retaliation. “Kidding babe, and for the record,” Another kiss to his neck. “I think you’d be a sexy astronaut.”  _

_ “Every word that comes out of your mouth makes me question this relationship.” He turned in Newton’s arms. Putting his own arms around Newton’s neck, and leaned into him. It was a bit weird, since Hermann was taller, but they made it work. “I think the telescope was busted when you bought it.”  _

_ “Dammit.”  _

_ “We’ll get a proper one someday.”  _

Newton still had it, the broken telescope. He was fairly certain it was the eyepiece that was messed up, they’d just never gotten around to fixing it. 

The phone was still buzzing in his hand. There was no point in dwelling on all of this. He hit decline and turned the GPS on. 

Right now, his main concern was his sobriety. If seeing Hermann made it difficult then he’d avoid him until he was ready, or indefinitely. Probably indefinitely. He’d start looking for jobs again, he could leave at the end of the semester if he had to. Going into the private sector was always an option as well. 

“He left you when you needed him most,” Newton tells himself to keep from going back into the building right now. He doesn’t care what Hermann has to say. His note and 18 months of silence have said enough. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr is oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com  
> I take requests there and post very little because I'm a mess.   
> Comments are well loved.


	4. Chapter 4

Newton doesn’t answer his phone, nor does he return for his belongings that day. At least, not before the janitors come through for the day, and lock up the empty offices, and the entrance doors. There’s no getting back into the building after that. Hermann leaves at a less than a reasonable time. He’d had plans to finish lesson plans and review a few final’s grades from summer students, they’d already technically been submitted but he wanted to double check everything just in case.

Then Newton had shown up, and just like that everything fell apart, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the course outline or the grades. Nothing, he’d ended up staring at the screen or the chalkboard or the desk. Because goddamn that man. Hermann can’t believe he had the gall to do that. To just walk in and run away and ruin the rest of his day by making him worry. He’d thought he’d gotten himself away from the worrying worry, the worry that caused him to grind his teeth and shake his good leg, caused him to fiddle with the ring on the chain around his neck. They were Newton-like habits, and they only resurfaced when he was there, or when Hermann thought of him. There was probably a psychological reason for it, for it. The mimicking of Newton’s old habits and tendencies as a way to self soothe after everything. 

Hermann doesn’t pace, it hurts his knee and he finds it annoying in colleagues, but he’s pacing his apartment. The soft knock of the rubber foot of the cane against the hardwood floor a calming rhythm. He’s called Newton a few times, he knows the number hasn’t changed because he gets the voicemail. 

“It’s Newt, must be busy working on my 7th Ph.D., or practicing my keytar skills. Leave a message after the beep.” He’s changed it since California, he used to offer “plowing my future husband” in lieu of practicing keytar. Hermann is both relieved and a bit disappointed by the revelation of the change. He’s just a ridiculous man. Herman must keep that in mind. That Newton is ridiculous and childish, and that he is not. Hermann really isn’t sure how they ever worked, they were nothing alike, two totally different people. Incompatible in every way. Looking back Hermann can see that it never would have worked, they were just too different. 

“You left your things back in my office Dr. Geiszler.” His words are clipped, short. “I’ve left them with the building’s administrative assistant. I ask that in the future if you must enter my office, you don’t announce your presence with such dramatics.” He hangs up and finds himself at the entrance to his bedroom, head resting against the closed door. 

“Fuck” it’s a murmured sort of word, the kind that he isn’t entirely sure he even spoke aloud until the sound reached his ears. He can’t stand the thought of Newton being only across the hall, can’t stand the thought of having to look him in the eye during what will likely be many upcoming encounters, faculty meetings or even just the thought of hearing him unlock his office in the morning. And he tells himself it’s because he hates him for what he put him through, but he knows it’s because he doesn’t trust himself to run back to him if the chance ever offers itself and get hurt all over again. 

His perfectly crafted exterior, protecting him from more heartbreak and loss, and here was Newton like a hammer destroying that perfect marble mold that Herman had shaped around himself. 

He puts himself to the task of cooking, trying to ignore the protests of his knee after the pacing, the background thoughts of Newton. He hasn’t had a cigarette in months, he’d stopped cold turkey when he’d heard about Newton’s overdose. But now, the itch was in his fingers, the thought of the smoke in his lungs, the calming relief it offered, the warmth between his fingers. Hermann wouldn’t pretend he didn’t have his own vices. He knew that the convenience store on the corner stocked his favorite brand. 

He pocketed his wallet. 

__________

Newton felt better after the meeting, he’d been anxious about the build-up to his move from California. Leaving the people he knew, the support system he’d built in those church basements and rec halls, even in group at rehab. It had put him at ease when he’d lined up a sponsor here, they’d chatted a few times,  mostly on skype calls, but Newt met him when he visited the college, toured, did his interviews. Newt called him later that evening. 

“Hey man, everything alright?” Came a voice from the other end, there was a a clattering in the background a voice high pitched voices. 

“Yes, no. I don’t know Tendo.” 

“Do you need me to come over? I’m making dinner right now, but Alison can put Elias to bed tonight if you need to talk.” 

“No, no. It’s alright. Everything just kind of hit the fan.”

“What do you mean?”

Newt quickly relays the day’s events, he’d already told him about Hermann so he doesn’t really need to provide a whole lot of background on everything. “It’s just unexpected and part of why I moved out here was to avoid running into him.” He feels better after he shares it, after the story spills from his mouth a second time after his feelings on the situation are made vocal. His frustration is made vocal. 

“Maybe he did it for the same reason.” Newt sighs. He’s sitting in his car, unwilling to make the climb of the many stories to his very empty apartment. Everything is moved in, it’s just a matter of set-up and organization and unpacking. His bed frame is still sitting in the box leaning against the wall in his bedroom. The mattress bare, with just a comforter and a few pillows. He’s using a cardboard box as a nightstand. He still needs to get most of his furniture, but he’s been busy and it's not exactly at the top of his agenda. 

“If you need me to come over, or meet you somewhere I can, that’s what I’m here for Newton. I can’t fix your problems with the ex but I can be there if you need me. Are you worried you’re going to use?”

“I don’t think so. I was when I first left the campus. I went to a meeting, felt better. The structure made me feel better. I have so much work to do, but I think….” He sighs. “I think I need to not be alone right now.” 

“I need to talk to Alison but I can be there in 25 minutes. Is that ok?” Newton nods, then realizing the mistake. 

“Yeah. I’ll be at my place. Thanks, Tendo.” 

“Anytime man.”

Newton doesn’t leave the car. He sits there, his thoughts wavering on intrusive and longing. He misses Hermann, as much as he hated the bastard for what he did.

He wants him back, wants to climb up the stairs and be back in their apartment in California. It almost feels like he could be back there if he closes his eyes. He’s in the same car, and it’s sweltering, even with the sun starting to set. Hermann sitting next to him, hand resting on the gear shift the same way it rested on his cane when he stood. He missed the banter and the stupid fights. The nights they were too tired to do anything more sleep. Hermann would have protested cuddling on a night like this, it was too hot, but Newton would wake early the next morning to Hermann’s arms around his soft middle and his face pressed into the back of his neck.

There’s a knock on the window of the car, it startles Newton out of his head.  Tendo stands there. He’s in casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. 

“I’m sorry to take you away from your family,” Newt says as he opens the door. 

“Part of this process is asking for help when you need it. I’m your sponsor, and if I wasn’t here for you when you needed someone then I’d be a pretty shitty sponsor.” Tendo had a similar history as Newton, they’d done drugs recreationally in high school, but the heavy class load of college had increased their usage and frequency, and there was the fact that Tendo was also trans. Tendo had never finished the engineering degree he’d started, his grades had slipped, all he cared about was the drugs. “I saw a friend die.” He’d told him. “Watched him convulse and shutter and foam at the mouth. I’d passed out before I could shoot up, he’d used the one I had prepared. I knew after that, that I had to get help. That I was going to end up dead if I didn’t.” He found a supportive living facility. He had certification as an engineering technician, got a job, got his life put back together. 

“You can’t ignore him forever,” Tendo says, glancing at the phone in the cup holder. It was lit up, Hermann was calling. 

“I know.” 

“Look, I know this is hard. But you are responsible for your actions. You aren’t too the step yet, but you will eventually have to make amends with those you wronged.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do that. I don’t know if I can face him.” Newton is gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white.  “I used him, and lied to him, and stole from him. I loved him and I did those things to him. I can’t look him in the eye every day.” 

“You will have to face this eventually. Your past is a part of you. The only way you and those you hurt can heal is through forgiveness.” 

Newton sighs and shuts off the phone as the call ends. “Not tonight, not now.” Tendo nods. 

“How about we go inside? You can do whatever you do, I’ll be there if you need to talk or just want company.” Newt nods. 

“Thank you for coming.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, with the nature of this story, I am not an expert on addiction or how to handle addiction. I am pulling from my personal experience with several family members who have an addiction and have tried one program or another, as well as research done on different programs.   
> My tumblr is oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com if you're interested in keeping up to date on my very limited activity. Comments are greatly appreciated.


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